


Sam Wilson's Home for Misfits

by Anonymous



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bottom Sam, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Loki (Marvel) Needs a Hug, M/M, Multi, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Pre-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Sam Wilson-centric, Sam is a Saint
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2019-08-14 09:51:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16490351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: “So, are you gonna explain why you’re showing up on a dark and stormy night like some kind of ghoul or are we gonna sit here and drink me out of hot cocoa?”-Sam Wilson never expected to be housing two ex-villains, but then again he never expected to stop an evil organization with Captain America either.





	1. Half-past eight and all we have is pancakes

“So, are you gonna explain why you’re showing up on a dark and stormy night like some kind of ghoul or are we gonna sit here and drink me out of hot cocoa?”

Bucky sat there, blanket wrapped around him and looked down into his mug. His coat hung by the door, dripping water to the floor. Sam expected a lot of things since coming back home. He expected for his neighbours to ask where he was going for weeks at a time. He expected the regular Vets and workers at the VA to welcome him back with smiles and kind words. He even expected Ms.McNamara to try and set him up with her nephew again. This, however, was a wildcard.   
The rain battered the house as the storm continued, thunder and lightning crashing every few minutes. Sam was surprised he even heard Bucky’s knocks at all. He was surprised Bucky knocked at all, he seemed like the type to be waiting for you in your living room.

“Don’t tell Steve,” Bucky muttered. Sam sighed, the most rational part of him said he should call Steve immediately and tell him that his no longer brainwashed ex-assassin best friend showed up to his door. But, the part of him that talked to Vets every day about how hard it is to tell family and friends about their issues and choosing to hide rather than being seen as broken, yeah that Sam won. 

“I won’t but in exchange I want transparency. If you’re gonna stay here you need to answer questions I ask you, okay?” Bucky nodded slowly, taking a sip of his drink. Sam nodded and began to walk out of the kitchen before stopping, “I’m gonna get some stuff ready for you. You can use the tv if you want...um yeah,” Sam mentally smacked himself. Did Bucky even know how to use a tv? Was there tv in the forties? Did Hydra allow tv time to their assets? 

Without any affirmation, Sam went upstairs and began to gather blankets and pillows for the guest room as well as towels for the bathroom. He had no siblings and his parents were long gone so other than Steve and Natasha, both who prefered the couch, the room got little use. It wasn’t much, the entire house was nothing to sneeze honestly. Like the house, the room was plain but functional. Four walls, a window, a closet, a bed and a table beside it. The paint was faded but not peeling, the blue hue usually enhanced by the moonlight. At least it wasn’t dusty. Sam sneezed. At least it wasn’t too dusty. 

“I can sleep on the couch-“

“CHRIST!” Sam veered around to see Bucky standing in the doorway. Even through the grime and waterlogged rat hair, Sam could see hints of mirth in Bucky’s expression. His lips quirked for a moment in a smile that reminded him of the pictures Steve had shown him, “You’re two hundred and fifty pounds of muscle and have a metal arm, how are you that quiet?” 

“I was an assassin,” Bucky said, his delivery ten times drier than his hair. Sam stifled a laugh as he finished making the bed, throwing a nice throw blanket over it.

“You’re taking a shower, eating something, then sleeping in this bed. My house, my rules sorry!” He said pushing Bucky towards the bathroom. Entering the room, he opened the cabinet behind the mirror and was happy to find a small pair of scissors. If Bucky needed anything else he could grab it from his own bathroom.

Turning around, Sam could already see Bucky eyeing the could be weapon, “I’m not gonna stab you Bucky. But I am going to trim your...everything, so sit,”

“I can cut it myself. Just leave the scissors.”

Sam nodded, walked to the shower, and opened the curtain. Thankfully, there was still half a bottle of body wash in there and some of Natasha’s shampoo and conditioner, “This is gonna sound kinda dumb but do-"

“We had showers back then Wilson and believe it or not Hydra allowed me to bathe. I can turn it on myself,” Bucky didn’t roll his eyes but Sam could hear it in his voice. At least the guy wasn’t emotionless. Before Sam could say anything Bucky took off his shirt and exposed a scarred but sculpted body underneath. 

“I’ll go see if Steve left anything. If not you’ll just have to squeeze into my stuff.” Not waiting for a reply he went to his room and started looking through the laundry he had yet to put away. Steve was over enough that he partially moved in at one point. Sam had a few shirts, a hoodie, three pairs of sweatpants and even some socks that all belonged to the big blue boy scout. 

“Hey Bucky! I found a few things you can-“ Bucky was hot. Well no shit, of course, he was attractive but now that the dirt was gone, his hair was clean and the beard met with some scissors, he was near perfect. Not to mention that his muscly body was on full display with only a towel to cover his lower half, “Wow you take short showers, huh. Um, there’s no underwear or anything cause that’d probably be weird to share so here.”

“I only need eight minutes, five without the haircut. And that’s fine, I don’t wear underwear anyway.” Sam couldn’t tell if that was a tease or if Bucky actually admitted that he let his junk to freely fling everywhere. Nodding Sam told him to come down to the kitchen when he was done and get some food. 

“Okay Sam, what do super soldiers eat?” Thinking back Steve wasn’t picky at all and ate anything put in front of him. Natasha was self-sufficient and didn’t rely on him to cook if she didn’t like what he made she’d make something else. So he shrugged and decided to cook what he thought those two liked best, Mama Wilson’s awarding winning bacon mac ‘n’ cheese. Sam opened the fridge and saw he was out of everything but milk, eggs, and butter. He looked in the pantry and saw all was in there was baking ingredients.

Pancakes for dinner it was.   
While getting the ingredients out he sighed, the house was quiet. After weeks of Steve and Nat being in and out of his house, he got used to the constant noise but now that they were off in New York avengering everything got too quiet. The only thing he could hear was the inconsistent thunder. Luckily, he had something for that.

Connecting his phone to the blue tooth speakers Tony made him for Christmas, why the man couldn’t just buy them like a regular person he had no idea, he chose his slow jams playlist. Nothing like a little Aaliyah and Keith Stewart to put his mind at ease. He combined the ingredients, mixing them together while singing. Who could blame him, _Rock the Boat_ was a bop.

“Your there now hold me close. Boy let's take this overboard now, rock the boat, rock the boat. Rock the boat, baby rock the boat,” Sam sang swaying his hips. He put the pan on the heated stove and began melting butter when he heard a cough as he sang the lyric “stroke it for me”. Whipping around he saw Bucky sitting at the table with a towel on his shoulders. Shit even with lounge clothes on he was still attractive.

“You have a nice voice,” Bucky said avoiding eye contact, “So pancakes for dinner? Haven’t had those in years,” Sam decided that he would just ignore the fact that Bucky heard him sing a song about sex and then proceeded to compliment his voice in favour of cooking.

“Yup. Pancakes. Uh can you get a pen and paper, I need to make a shopping list,” he now knew why there was more money in his account than usual. He’d been living off diner food and random stuff at the VA for the last few days and hadn’t been out for groceries this month. Sam flipped another pancake as he heard Bucky shuffle around looking for the stationary.

“Sam where?” Sam rolled his eyes yelling that it would be in the living room drawer. If he could find them on the freeway, he could find some paper and a pen, “Samuel Thomas Wilson, where is it!” Sam was only slightly creeped out that Bucky knew his full name. Then again he knew his address.

“Come take over for me then. You do know how to cook right?”

“You’re making pancakes not foie gras, I can handle it,” Sam nodded and went into the living room to see all the drawers opened as well as all his magazines scattered around. Looks like it really wasn’t in there. Closing the drawers and heading upstairs he grabbed the materials from his room. Looking around he started on his list, writing clothes on the top in big black letters. If Bucky was there to stay he needed more than three pairs of pants.  

Writing everything he could think off, he still needed to check on the amount of detergent and dryer sheets he had, he walked back into the kitchen.

“Hey Bucky, do you have anything specific you’d like me to- What the hell are you doing!” In his kitchen, Bucky was making pancakes. Now there was nothing wrong with that but the thing is, he wasn’t using the spatula. No, instead Bucky flipped the pancakes with his metal arm; specifically by picking up the pancakes and turning them over.

“I washed it first.”

“Bucky, it’s still your hand! You’re not making corn flour tortillas, you’re making pancakes. Use the damn spatula,” Sam said picking it up and holding it out to Bucky. The taller man shrugged, taking the object and flipping the next pancake.

“It was easier the other way,” he grumbled. Sam shook his head and opened the cupboard to continue his list. Even his syrup bottle was almost empty as well as many other items. Between fighting Hydra, looking for Bucky, and returning to his normal life, he really hadn’t had time to do much for himself.

“I’m going to the basement, yell if you need anything,” he called walking downstairs. Making his way to the laundry room he noticed the storm had calmed down. However, in the same way that the Hulk calms down from a raging gamma irradiated metahuman to a raging gamma irradiated metahuman that listens to Captain America. He took count of how many tide pods he had left and decided he should probably do laundry a few more times before buying more.

“There’s a draft down here.” Sam will not admit that he screamed like one of those horror movie scream queens, he will not. But his basement was unfinished, amounting to two bare concrete rooms, exposed beams of wood, a washer, a dryer, and one small crummy window that he was pretty rusted shut in the nineties. It had minimal lighting and he had told Bucky, who was cooking upstairs mind you, to yell if he needed anything. In short, the basement was creepy and he expected to be alone in it.

“James fucking Barnes! I said yell if you needed anything,” Sam chastised as he picked up his pen from where he threw it.

“I don’t need anything, I just came to say the food’s ready,” Bucky answered calmly. Sam looked into blue eyes trying to find any bit of amusement but the metal-armed man had is expression down cold.

“Whatever, let’s eat,” Sam sighed.

“You really do have a nice voice, Sam. Your moves aren’t bad either.”

“Shut up Barnes.”

* * *

When Bucky came to he only remembered one thing clearly. Two metal wings, goggles, and a cute gap between the teeth. He didn’t know why the first thing he remembered was Sam. Maybe it was because he could fly, or because he kicked the shit out of him, or because he was someone new. All he knew was that before he could stop himself, he was stalking around D.C hoping to catch a glimpse of him and when he did he followed him all the way home.

He was outside Sam’s house, well across the street from Sam’s house, for the first time.

The first time, when Steve and Natalia were still there.

He was wet, hungry, and tired. Sam had a basement which he rarely went down to and a window that opened after a few good kicks to its frame. So he started squatting. It wasn’t much, sleeping in the unfinished room with a blanket he pilfered from the wash. Steve and Natalia (should he call her Natasha now? No) never came down and Sam only went to the laundry room. So he stayed.

When they’d all leave during the day, he’d run upstairs and take what wouldn’t be missed. An apple or a banana. A bottle of water or two. Maybe sneak some soap to wash up in the sink downstairs. When he could face Steve again, he would reveal himself.

Then he heard them talking one day.

Hydra bunkers, looking for him, gone for weeks.

He could survive on his own, of course. Leaving the house and getting food while they were away in Albania, or Belarus, or wherever they went. But then he heard them talk about experiments, assets, others like him. Others hurt like him.

So it became his own version of therapy. The more bunkers he destroyed, the more experiments he ended, the more he could redeem himself. Then he could face Steve again. They chased him, of course, running after him from country to country. Sometimes they’d be way off the mark, others they’d be right on top of him. Those were the times he observed.

Samuel Thomas Wilson, born September 23, 1978, ex-pararescue airman. What? Military service records are public. He wasn’t like Steve or Natalia. He wasn’t a spy, he wasn’t an Avenger, he wasn’t a Shield agent, he wasn’t superhuman. He was just a veteran who worked at the VA and somehow got mixed up in a world of espionage and underground societies. He was supposed to be watching Steve, seeing how his best friend was doing. But more and more he found himself looking at Sam.

Sam who threw himself into danger even though Steve could probably get hit by a building and be fine. Sam who went through great lengths to try and save Natalia when some low-level Russian thugs captured her though she could take care of her own situation. Sam was there, there until the end of the line.

And the end of the line came when the Avengers were called back into action and Sam went back to being Sam, the guy at the VA. That’s when he decided it was time. Time for him to meet Sam. Well meet Sam properly. He was exhausted, covered in dirt from his last excursion into a Hydra bunker and his beard was overgrown. So he knocked at Sam’s door and for the first time, entered the house through the threshold.

                                                                                                        XX

“Why do I have to watch this?” It didn’t make sense. He knew what real aliens looked like, he was pretty sure there was no sound in space, and unless they were mutants, the whole telekinesis thing seemed dumb.

“Star Wars is a cultural phenomenon! You can’t just not have seen it Bucky. If you’re going to adjust, then you need to watch it,” Sam said throwing popcorn at him. He frowned, the film was still dumb. What kind of last name was Skywalker anyway? And who goes into hiding by using the same name? Old Ben Kenobi? Please, “Oh my god! Just watch the movie Bucky, stop thinking so hard it’s starting to smell like burnt toast.”

“I don’t smell anything,” he grumbled leaning back.

“Fine, we can watch something else since you wanna be grumpy about it,” Now, of course, he wanted to argue but then Sam would win, “Do you have a genre in mind?”

Bucky shook his head. He was still trying to figure out the whole VCR, DVD, Netflix thing, all because Hydra taught him how to use a computer didn’t mean he knew about all the other stuff. The last time he watched a movie was in the forties on a big screen and now they could just select movies from some huge virtual library of them that cost $9.99 a month.

Looking at the rows of movies and tv shows pass by something did pique his interest, “What’s a Babadook? I’m not familiar with the lore,” Sam’s laugh was sunshine on a cloudy day. But he hated that it only came at his expense.

“It’s not a “real” monster like the boogeyman. It doesn’t have a myth outside of the movie,” he continued to snicker, “Do you wanna watch it?” Bucky shrugged in response, any movie was better than watch space monks battle with laser swords.

                                                                                                              XX

James Buchanan Barnes fought in World War Two. He was a POW. He fell off a train and spent the last half century as an international assassin for a group that planned world domination.

He was not afraid of the fucking Babadook.

Sure it was creepy and Sam’s house made weird noises at night and he still had enough paranoia in his mind to power a city. But he would not be afraid of the Babadook. The Babadook was fictional. He had seen what was probably the closest things to monsters. He had seen the worst of Hydra experiments. He had seen, committed, terrible actions.

All the more reason for the Babadook to make him hurt Sam.

“This is dumb. I’m being dumb, and now look at that,  I’m talking to myself,” Bucky snorted rolling over and going to bed. The stupid Babadook could kiss his ass.

 


	2. Making Adjustments

Bucky didn’t like shopping. Back in the day he never really did it and when he did it wasn’t anything like this. Everyone walked down to Mr. McMahon's grocer that was never very busy and bought a few food items, maybe a dime novel on the counter or whatever other trinkets were there. Now he had to get in a car, drive twenty minutes in traffic to a giant concrete building with almost a thousand other people, walk through 37 aisles to look for items that were nowhere near each other and then wait in a giant line because out of twenty registers, only six were open. Bucky hated shopping. 

Of course, there were still small local stores, but then he’d stick out and be easier to spot wherein SuperMart, a tall brunette wearing a baseball cap and a dirty jacket was the least memorable thing.

“Can you stop glaring at the milk, it’ll go bad,” Sam chuckled as he looked at the various undershirts on the wall display. He didn’t get it, food, clothes, grills, entire sets of outdoor furniture, and a four wheeler all in the same damn store. And people were strange. Sure he was wearing a dirty faded jacket because Sam had an itty bitty waist so none of his outerwear fit him, but these people were a different breed. They just passed someone who was wearing a full animal costume! To the store! In February! 

“I’m not glaring,” he muttered. His hands moved to catch the pack of undershirts being thrown at him, “I’m not that big Wilson. I don’t need an extra large,” his frown deepened as he heard Sam laugh at him while pushing the cart down the aisle. Quickly he grabbed a pack of larges and caught up, throwing them into the cart. Walking down the central paths, which had weird displays setup (Who even gave out free samples of conditioner at the store?), they entered a different aisle filled with packaged food.

“Do you want any snacks? And you better not say no ‘cause if I catch you eating my shit, Imma beat your ass,” Sam’s voice was half serious as he grabbed a box of oatmeal cream pies, “It’s the future Barnes, the world is your oyster. Chose a snack,” Bucky looked around seeing some things vaguely familiar and others he’d never seen before. Thinking about it now, he couldn’t remember actually eating during his time with Hydra. Experiments? He could remember. Missions? All catalogued in his brain. But eating anything? The last few decades all turned up no memory of him having any type of meal. 

“Cheetos,” Bucky said picking up the vibrant orange bag. All across the shelf were different orange bags full of different flavours of the orange snacks.

“Yeah, Cheetos. Did they have those in the forties?” Bucky shook his head. Sure his memories pre-Hydra were a little fuzzy but he’d remember something as outrageous sounding as cheddar jalapeño cheese snacks, “Oh they were invented in 1948. After you um, ya know,” Sam gave an awkward smile towards the end. One thing that still amazed Bucky was the whole cell phone thing. Sure he could use one, even one more hi-tech than a flip phone, but all of that information at your fingertips? It was a big leap from his days of lumbering down to the library and hoping to find an answer to some random question when no one around him knew it. 

“I want to try Cheetos,” he announced. Easier said than done. There was regular Cheetos, flaming hot, cheddar jalapeño, chipotle ranch, flaming hot lime, Xtra (where the “E” went he did not know) flaming hot. And they all said crunchy because to his surprise they had puffy Cheetos too, and even those had their own flavours.

“Need help?” If he was a less composed person, he might’ve blushed as Sam’s arm rubbed against his. Sam was warm. Not his personality, though that was warm too, physically he was just a warm person. Bucky, on the other hand, ran cold. Whether by Soviet design, Hydra experiment, or the decades of cryo-sleep fucking up his hypothalamus, his skin never reflected the warmth that a thermometer would claim he had, “Just get original and flaming hot for now, next time you can get something else if you like them.”

Grunting in agreement he put the snacks in the cart, “What else do we have to get?”

“A new blanket, I think Nat took one when she left,” Bucky was glad Sam was in front of him because his face completely let it slip that he knew exactly what Sam was talking about. Walking deeper into the store Bucky looked at the array of plush blankets before him and picked one up.

“Here.”

“Look at that blanket and tell me it fits my house,” Bucky frowned looking at the design on the package. The scene of a beachfront. White beach, foamy blue waves crashing on the sand, a setting sun, it looked fine.

“I don’t get it. You wanted a blanket, this is a blanket. The beach is nice, so take it,” Bucky rolled his eyes as Sam shook his head in dramatic fashion.

“Please tell me what part of my house says beach? My house is cottage core Barnes, cottage core,” Sam tutted as he picked up a red flannel blanket, “This goes with the house Barnes, not beaches. Besides, beaches are for bathrooms and I refuse to be unoriginal.”

“Beaches are for...what?” The twenty-first century didn’t make any sense and Bucky was sure of that. Megastores that sell everything, bathroom beaches, whatever cottage core was supposed to mean. Maybe it was because he never had to do any decorating that was so lost on the idea of these different aesthetics. To him, if it looked good and you like it then it should go in your house, but apparently, Sam had other ideas. Maybe he’d read one of those magazines that came in the mail and see what he could learn about “cottage core”. 

The pair walked to the checkout and with that Bucky already found another reason to not like the store. Back in the day (wow he sounded like an old man) the grocer would be someone local. Someone down the street, someone you knew. Someone who’d ask about little Jimmy and actually knew little Jimmy. 

“Oh wow, burgers? Do you grill at all times of the year?” Now it was someone he had never met in his life commenting on everything they put in the bag with fake enthusiasm. It wasn’t her fault, of course, she had to be nice and inviting, and all that, but to him it was uncomfortable. And he could tell she wasn’t all that into it too with the forced smile she gave the man in front of them. 

But then something changed. As they moved to the front of the line, the blonde woman’s smile became more relaxed. Her green eyes softened and her cheeks flushed a bit. 

“Hi, Sam! Nice to see you again!” Oh. OH. Bucky watched the two of them exchange greetings and small talk as she paid him no mind. Then, disaster struck. 

“Oh shit, I forgot to grab brown sugar,” Sam cursed as he looked at the amount of stuff they had left, “I’ll be back before you’re done!” He told the cashier as he ran off. Leaving Bucky all alone, in line, with the cashier. His number one priority was not being noticed. He was an international terrorist and now he was stuck in line with a cashier staring right at him and attempting to make eye contact.

“So, um, you and Sam. Are you one of his friends?” Bucky nodded stiffly, “He usually comes with some buff guy and a woman. Do you know them?” Bucky shook his head, “I thought they were together at first but it doesn’t seem like it. Do you know if Sam’s seeing anyone?” Well between his job, being a backup Avenger, and taking care of Bucky, Sam did not have a lot of time to get out there, “I was thinking of giving him my number.”

“He has a boyfriend,” the words came out before he properly thought about them. Sam had no partner that he knew of, he didn’t even know if Sam wasn’t straight, but the last thing he needed was Sam being involved with anyone. So if that meant telling a white lie to a cashier at the store then oh well. Besides, she was way too young for Sam. 

“Just in time,” Sam said as he handed her the brown sugar. She had just finished scanning their last item on the belt and smiled as she scanned the sugar as well. 

“Your total is 226.78,” Bucky’s eyes widened. Yes, inflation was a thing he understood but Sam didn’t even look like he bought that much, “Do you have any coupons?” Sam smiled as he opened his wallet and brought out a few slips of paper. The cashier, Cassandra, yes it took this long for him to look at her nametag, smiled as she took them, a light blush covered her cheeks as their hands brushed against each other. She scanned them quickly bringing the total down to $159.72. 

Sam handed her his card before turning to him, “Couldn’t you have put the bags in the cart?” Bucky nodded dumbly, he was too preoccupied saving their asses from a potential threat but fine, be mad. Bucky began grabbing bags and putting them in the cart as Sam finished up the transaction, “Thanks Cass, see you next time!” Sam called as they walked to the exit.

When they finally got to the car, a new one which Bucky was not allowed to drive because he had a horrible track record with steering wheels, Bucky asked, “So...do you like Cassandra?” Which ended up causing Sam to laugh for five minutes straight. 

“Where’d you get an idea like that? Cass is way too young for me. She’s a nice girl though, why’re you asking?” Bucky shrugged choosing it was better to not expose the girl’s crush. He still had one question though...

“Have something else to ask?” Sam chuckled flashing that gap-toothed smile at him.

“Why are bathrooms beaches?” He’d find out another way. 

* * *

Bucky was acting strange. Sam knew strange. His current best friends were a super soldier that was frozen in ice for 100 years and a Russian spy. He was currently living with an international assassin/terrorist. He was very used to the not normal. But this, this was different.

“What do you mean by that?” Sam asked as he turned around from the stove. All he was trying to do was cook dinner.

“What do you think of Steve and Natalia?” Bucky asked again without looking up from the carrots he was cutting. 

“They’re my friends.”

“And?”

“I care about them?”

“And?”

“Bucky I don’t know what you want me to say,” Sam sighed as he grabbed the finished carrots and pushed celery in front of his designated sous chef. Dumping the carrots in he remembered the peas and walked over to the fridge.

“Say the truth, what do you think about them?” Sam sighed. 

“Well,” he started as he set down the bag of frozen peas, “Steve has all the qualities of a great leader but he can be incredibly reckless as well. He’s a good man, genuinely, and tries to see the good in everyone. We need that in the world,” Sam smiled a little as he thought about the blonde.

“And Natalia?” Bucky asked as he put the celery in the pot.

“Nat’s different. I don’t know much about her past other than it probably was full of pain. But she’s strong, she moves on because she wants better for herself. I’m glad to know someone like that. She cares for those close to her and despite a cold first impression, she’s a good person. Well as good as she can be. And to top it off she’s a badass. Hope that answered your weird ass question,” Sam said as he added the peas. 

“Yeah,” Bucky murmured. Sam huffed turning down the heat and putting the pot’s lid on.

“What? What is it that you want to know so bad? Spit it out, Barnes!” Sam had had enough.

“Do you think Steve is attractive?” Sam dropped the wooden spoon in his hand. Fuck kind of question was that? 

“Look,” Sam said bending over to pick up what he dropped. Dropping it in the sink, he turned to look at the ex-assassin, “I don’t know why you’re being all weird and asking stuff like this but if you want to know I do not like Steve that way. We’re just friends.”

Bucky shook his head, his already loose ponytail losing more strands of chestnut hair, “I didn’t ask that. Just if you find him attractive.”

“He’s six foot two, two hundred twenty pounds of muscle, and has the general disposition of a golden retriever. Of course, I find him attractive.”

“Would you sleep with Steve?”

“This conversation is over.”

                                                                                                                  XX

“I don’t like this.” Sam rolled his eyes as he paused the movie again. 

“You don’t like Star Wars, you don’t like Star Trek, you thought Nightmare on Elm Street was stupid and that Silence of the Lambs was boring, I show you Lord of the Rings and you hate that too. So now I do a one-eighty and show you Citizen Kane and you don’t like it either,” Sam huffed. Every time, every movie so far had been met with anything ranging from “That’s a plot hole,” to “I don’t get it,” to worst of all, “This is boring.” 

“Didn’t like it on the forties, don’t like it now,” he shrugged, leaning back on the arm of the sofa.

“Was there anything you did like?”

“The movie with the robot cars,” Sam launched up and looked at Bucky like he just told him he rather go back to Hydra than live with him, “What? It was fun.”

“You are choosing Michael Bay and his four movie long toy commercial over Peter Jackson’s high fantasy epic?! You, James Buchanan Barnes, have no taste in cinema. What’s so good about Transformers?”

“Fighting robot cars. I liked those,” Bucky replied plainly, “You need to vary your taste, Sam.” Sam was over it, really, truly over it. Getting up he threw the pillow he was holding at Bucky’s head (which he dodged, infuriating bastard) and stalked up the stairs, “Sam, don’t go, I don’t know how to find more robot cars!”

“Figure it out on your own!”

                                                                                                                    XX

“Sam wake up. Sam, Sam, Sam, Sam-”

“What,” the veteran hissed through his teeth. One moment he’s in dreamland running on the beach with a shirtless Shemar Moore and now he’s looking into icy blue eyes. Turning to look at the clock he curses, it was three in the goddamn morning, “Barnes you are so lucky I don’t have work today. What do you want?”

“Your house has terrible heating and I’m cold. Move over,” Sam had two options; tell Bucky to go find more blankets which will lead to either arguing or him not knowing where Sam keeps anything in his “unorganised” home and him potentially having to get up, or he could just move over to the other side of the bed and return to his dreams. 

“I don’t wanna hear a peep from you, stay on your side,” Sam grumbled as he rolled over to the left side of the bed. 

“Go on the other side, I like sleeping near the door,” Bucky said nudging him the other way. Having no strength to complain he moved over again. Feeling the dip and then a brief puff of cold air, Sam sighed as Bucky made himself at home in his bed. 

“Sam-”

“Whatever it is, I don’t wanna know right now. Tell me in four hours Bucky Barnes.”

Shortly after returning to a sadly dreamless sleep, Sam started to awake again, this time due to the icicle that was probably making a home on his foot. Sure he wasn’t one to blast the heat, but it was way too cold. Sitting up he sighed and noticed that not only was on the edge of the bed but he barely had any of the covers on his body anymore. So along with disturbing his sleep, Bucky had the audacity to be a cover hog as well. Absolutely delightful. 

“Barnes, I swear, if you don’t give me some duvet back I’m not cooking shit for breakfast,” he said as he tugged on the cover. 

“Sam, sleep. It’s too early to play games right now,” Bucky murmured as he kept a steel, or better yet vibranium grip on the blankets. 

“Too early! Like you’re one to talk! Give me some of th- whoa!” Sam cried as Bucky let go causing him to fall back on the bed. Sitting up he picked up his pillow and began hitting the brunette with it, “Get. Out. Of. My. Bed. You. Thief,” he accented each word with another hit. The pillow making a distinct thump every time it met with Bucky’s face. Not that Sam would admit it, he shrieked when Bucky caught the pillow and pulled it causing him to fall on top of the half asleep man. Curse vibranium armed super soldier strength. 

“Sleep,” Bucky commanded bringing his arm over Sam. Now there were many things Sam liked and disliked about his current situation. Pillowing one’s head on a muscular chest that was the right balance of soft and firm was always nice but when it was not that night’s one night stand but his very platonic impromptu roommate, it was a little strange. But then again, he was tired. So Sam shut his eyes and went to bed. In the morning he could decide how to best punish Bucky. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bucky only likes trashy movies, srry not srry. Thanks for reading, kudos and comments are appreciated.


	3. Secrets

It was a cat. Bucky looked around to see if he could spot any owners or even some kid running around. He didn’t know much about the neighbours, well he didn’t know much about them beyond a criminal background check (they were all clean) but he’d never seen a cat before. 

This cat.

He’d never seen this cat before. The few times he went out during the day and the many times he went out long after the sun had set, he’d caught glimpses of ferals and strays. He’d seen cats hanging around fences that he was sure he’d seen looking at him through living room windows days before. But going through his mental catalogue, Bucky had never seen this cat.

It was an adult, no doubt. Long black fur, that swept down from it’s back in small waves. Small amounts of dirt clung to its black trestles, as it rubbed it’s cheek against his leg and purred. Smiling he picked up the friendly feline.

“You’re a bit light,” he said to himself. It made sense that the cat hadn’t been eating well, a cat this friendly was probably recently abandoned. Looking at the cat again, Bucky noticed it’s vibrant green eyes, like two emeralds stuck into an obsidian sculpture. The cat didn’t look like a mix either, if it was a purebred it probably cost its owners hundreds, “Are you lost?” 

The cat playfully batted at the loose strands of hair that framed his face as it chirped at him. He manoeuvred the animals into his organic arm while he used his metal one to comb through its fur. As far as he could tell there were no ticks or fleas. No obvious wounds either. 

“Well, no reason to leave you out here, right?” He said to the animal as he continued to play with it. Though he would never admit it to Sam, he got lonely. For all the brain scrambling that Hydra did, at his core, he was still the same extroverted Bucky Barnes who used to take girls to movies and out dancing. 

There were many times he’d watch documentaries just to try and feel like he was back then. Back when his biggest problem was trying to keep Steve out of trouble and not trying to remain hidden in a world where he’s wanted for causing the deaths of many. And sure, he had Sam. Sam was great. He showed him movies and caught him up on decades worth of pop culture he missed out on and let him try new foods and video games. 

But Sam had a life. He had a job to go to and his own friends to see, even if he was happy to spend his weekends with Bucky and show him weird space movies. But that, well that wasn’t enough. 

Opening the door, he crossed the threshold before kicking it closed and setting down the animal. As the small creature investigated its new area, Bucky couldn’t help but smile at it. The way it scampered around looking at everything the house had to offer, no doubt trying to find a cool hiding spot to sleep in.  

“Here-” Bucky stopped realising he did not name it. The first name that came to mind was Smokey, then Midnight, then Onyx, but he refused to name a black cat something so unoriginal. The cat was nice, and warm, and adorable, “Sammy,” he said to himself before shaking his head. Sam was all those things but to name his cat after him was a bit too much. Bucky walked over to the car and picked it up, walking to the kitchen. 

Dropping his yet to be named cat in the sink, he picked up the dish soap and looked at it skeptically. He had seen them use it in the commercial on those birds from the oil spills, but birds aren’t cats. Besides, the animal  was more dusty than dirty and it didn’t smell bad so a quick rinse was probably all it needed. 

Now, it was on to the next problem, the cat might hate water. Slowly he turned on the tap, only allowing a small trickle of water to drip out. As the stream descended on the cat, it looked up at him and meowed but stayed still nonetheless. 

“Okay, so water is fine,” he mused as he increased the flow a bit more. When he saw no change in reaction, he began running his fingers through the cat’s fur and watched as murky brown water slowly became clearer as it came off the cat.

“You still need a name,” he said to the small animals as he turned off the water. Before he could grab one of Sam’s towels that apparently served no purpose but to look nice, the cat shook itself dry. Luckily, most of the water ended up on him and not all over the kitchen. Unluckily, he was now wet. 

“You’re kind of an asshole,” Bucky swore the cat winked at him when he said that.

                                                                                                                 XX

“Optimus? No, Sam would laugh at that. Maybe Maverick, you’re free-spirited right?” Green eyes stared back at him as he questioned the nameless creature. Sure it was a cat and not his firstborn child, but names are important and his cat needed a name, “You probably already have a name so you wouldn’t answer if I gave you one. I’ll come up with one later,” he sighed closing his eyes. 

He’d been at it for the last two hours, trying to come up with a name for the cat. As he laid on the couch with the weight of the cat on his chest, he made a list of the things he had to buy for it. A litter box, litter for the litter box, actually cat food that was not the can of tuna he found in the cabinet, bowls, maybe a collar, and a toy or two. His fingers combed through the fur again as he rolled a few more names around in his head, all sounding unfitting for his new companion. 

Hearing a car pull up, Bucky smiled to himself. Sam was home, so maybe he had a good name for his cat (their cat?). Like they could read his mind, the cat jumped off of him and made its way to the door. Getting up to follow, Bucky’s eyes landed on Sam’s fireplace mantle. He never really thought about it, but looking at the mantle now there were about 5 different bird figurines on it. 

Sam liked birds. 

The jingle of the keys caused him to snap into action, racing to the cat and scooping it up before running to the kitchen. The cat twisted around in his hands trying to get back to the ground but thankfully stayed quiet. 

“Bucky? Was that you running?” Sam yelled from the door. Hearing it close, Bucky knew he had limited time. It would take Sam five seconds to slip off both shoes, seven to slip off his coat, and four to walk to the kitchen. He had sixteen seconds to get the cat somewhere. 

Bringing the cat to eye level, he looked into its eyes and whispered, “Don’t blow this for us.” He then opened the nearest cabinet and shoved the animal inside. Moving to the sink, he began washing the dishes he had left from his earlier meals. 

“Hey Sam, how was work?” He asked without looking back.

“It was fine, same as most days. Today Hernandez- Do you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Bucky said turning on the tap. Of course of all the places he could have put the damn cat, it would be the cabinet with pots and pans. He could hear almost every movement the tiny asswipe was making as it probably tried to get comfortable. 

“Maybe it’s the house settling,” Sam said shrugging, “I swear I’ve heard this place groan before. What do you wanna do for dinner?” Sam asked walking towards the cabinet of secrets. 

“I was thinking takeout!” Bucky said hurriedly, “I’ve never tried...Chicago style pizza before and I saw a flyer for that place of M street. I would like to eat there. Please,” he barked out as he tried to pull Sam away from the cabinet with his eyes. 

“Okay, I’ll call them,” Sam said slowly as he pulled out his phone and started searching up the place, “You want the usual garbage toppings you like?”

“There’s nothing wrong with sausage, mushrooms, and pineapples Wilson,” he pouted as he put the last dish on the rack. Drying his hands, Bucky turned to watch Sam fiddle with his phone. 

“Need something Barnes, or are you just checking out the merchandise?” Sam asked looking up at him with one eyebrow raised and a hint of a smirk on his lips.

Feeling the heat on his face Bucky rolled his eyes, “I was just wondering why you didn’t call them.”

“They have online ordering so I’m doing that instead.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

…

“What is it?” Sam asked breaking the awkward atmosphere that had built up around them, “You’re acting jumpy. Did you remember something about Hydra? Did someone recognise you? What is it?”

“Nothing. I’m just uh excited. You know it’s gonna be spring soon. Warm weather, cherry blossom trees, and all that,” he rushed through his words while motioning to the window, “Spring. Time of rebirth. And renewal. And youth. Ya know, spring Sam.”

Sam’s face looked like he was hearing a two year old describe their day over the phone with one bar of service but he nodded anyway, “Glad the weather’s making you feel better,” with that he walked out of the kitchen and towards the stairs. 

Letting out a huge breath, Bucky rushed to open the cabinet to take out the cat and received a scratch for his efforts. Ignoring the pain, he grabbed the animal and glared at it, “I finally have your name. You’re gonna be Bastard.” The cat seemed to almost smirk at him which only made the name all the more fitting. 

* * *

Bucky was hiding something. He was used to weird, and even after living with the man for a few weeks, he was even used to Bucky’s own brand of weird. But now he was acting outside the realm of eating flaming hot cheetos with mayonnaise.

“Did you read a recipe or something? Like is tuna salad the next big thing for stay at home moms?” Sam asked looking at the all caps tuna added in red ink to the bottom of his shopping list. The last time he had eaten tuna was during the 2010 blizzard and that was only because he went shopping too late and was only able to get what everyone else left behind. 

“I found some in the cupboard that was still good and I liked it. I put mayo and cheetos in it and it-”

“Please stop before I puke. Did Hydra fry your taste buds to or does this stuff actually taste good to you? Are you pregnant?” He said poking the brunette in the stomach. Trying to imagine the pungent tuna with the spiciness of cheetos and the distinct taste of mayo made his tongue cringe in his mouth and his taste buds run for cover. 

“Ha ha, Wilson. Very funny,” Bucky said before looking at the microwave clock. His eyes widened for a second before he turned to walk out of the kitchen, “Gotta go do something. Have fun shopping! Bye!” Sam watched as the normally nimble man bumped into a chair on his way out. He was definitely hiding something. 

Sneaking up on a super soldier was no easy feat. Bucky could probably hear what the neighbours were watching next door let alone him sneaking up the stairs. Still, he needed to try something or he’d never find out what the hell was going on with him. Soft murmurs came from Bucky’s room, and though Sam couldn’t decipher what he was saying it didn’t sound like he was whispering intelligence to some organization. 

Well, Bucky wasn’t like Steve, he never got to say goodbye to anyone before he “died” during the war. Even now that he was back he still was an international criminal and couldn’t even try and see anyone who might still be around like Steve did with Peggy. 

Sitting down on the step, Sam sighed. No one wanted to walk in on someone speaking to the photo of some dead loved one, especially after you accused them of doing something shady in your head. Before he makes his next move, the door opened and Bucky walked out wearing a large coat he had never seen before.

“Bucky.”

“Sam.”

“New jacket?”

“Yup. Thrift store.”

“I see,” Sam said as his eyes lingered on Bucky’s form. Bucky was a big guy already but the jacket had to at least be two sizes up from what he would usually wear. It was a faded black with a bit of fraying on the edges, but still wearable. Bucky must’ve washed it recently as well considering it smelled like dryer sheets and one was still stuck to the side of it. Lifting his hand, Sam reached out to take it off only for the brunet to shift away from him.

“I got it,” he said taking it off and stuffing it into his pocket. A weird look flashed across his face before he adopted a weird stance that was reminiscent of a meme on of the young vets showed him of some kid posing on a sidewalk. He was standing legs apart with his clasped together and rested over his stomach. With a nod, Bucky walked past him and trotted down the stairs. 

Hearing the front door close, Sam stood up and took a step down the stairs before stopping in his tracks. The small niggling on doubt in his head was starting to become more of a pain, so he sighed and walked towards Bucky’s room. Opening the door slowly, not that Bucky would booby trap it (he hoped anyway), he walked in. Despite Bucky living with him for some time, the room wasn’t particularly lived in. The only evidence of life was the lack of dust and a few articles of clothing. 

“What the-” Having kicked something, Sam looked down to see a can of tuna rolling around the floor. Looking in the trash he saw a few other cans in there in as well. All of them must have been washed considering the room didn’t smell like a fish market. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, so Sam shrugged and left the room. 

                                                                                                         XX

“You vacuumed again? I’m glad you wanna do your part and all but, you don’t need to clean this often you know?” If he was talking roommates he’d definitely prefer supposed neat freak Bucky over Steve “we can wash those tomorrow” Rogers. But vacuuming the entire house twice in four days was a bit much. 

“I spilt some pretzel salt and it was weird to only vacuum the carpet so I just kinda did everything. Thanks for buying more tuna, can’t get enough of the stuff,” he said as he put the appliance back in the closet. 

“You should slow down on that. There can be a lot of mercury in tuna and I don’t want you to get sick. But then again you can’t even get drunk so maybe that doesn’t matter,” Sam said with a shrug. He continued chopping the bell peppers for the stir-fry dinner he was preparing when he noticed Bucky inching towards the plate of grilled chicken. Maybe if he wasn’t used to Steve’s own clumsy attempts to steal food and Nat’s own brand of stealthy thieving he wouldn’t have noticed the delicate movements.

“Don’t make me slap you across the knuckles with this spatula Barnes. You can eat chicken when dinner’s done and not a second before. Go set the table.” Bucky backed away from the counter to go retrieve cutlery from the drawer instead. 

“It’s just a piece of chicken,” he grumbled taking out a few forks and knives, “I don’t see why I can’t have just one before you drown it in sauce.” 

“Why are all of you like this? Can I cook in peace without having to defend my ingredients? If I wanted to do that I’d just get a cat or something,” he chuckled to himself.

“Ew cats. Can’t stand them. Dogs are much better,” Bucky said, “Cats are the worst.”

“Thanks for your input? I’ll make sure we never get one,” Sam said raising one eyebrow. He never saw Bucky as someone to have a strong opinion on pets. He seemed like the kind of guy to retire to some cabin in the Canadian wilderness and make friends with bears and adopt every stray he sees. Oh well. 

                                                                                                          XX

There was a black hair. A black hair on his couch. Steve was blond, Nat was a redhead, and Bucky’s hair was unmistakably brown. He had black hair, but not black hair like this. His hair was short and coily. This hair was long and wavy. Now how did that hair end up on his couch? A majority of the people he worked with had hair that was either greying, short, or nonexistent. 

So that left Bucky.

Sam paced the living room. It was good for Bucky to make connections, he couldn’t spend all day trapped inside waiting for Sam to come home. But it was dangerous. What if they recognised him and reported him to the police? What if they worked for Hydra or some other evil organisation? What if they were a normal civilian and got roped into something dangerous because they knew Bucky, even if they didn’t know he was actually Bucky.

When he bought Bucky a flip phone he expected to be the only contact on it, but now thinking back, Bucky could have been using it to call anyone. He had heard murmuring the last time he suspected something was off. Maybe instead of Hydra or some picture, Bucky was talking to whatever new friend he made.  

Before he could stop himself, Sam was on his way up the stairs with no solid plan beyond saying whatever came out first. Bucky was doing something potentially dangerous and he needed to say something before anyone got hurt. 

“Bucky we need to talk!” He said opening the door. Bucky looked up at him with wide eyes. He was seated on the bed with his hands in his lap and his face blank. 

“I need you to tell me the truth about this. Okay?”

Bucky sighed, “I wasn’t that careful, was I? I promise he isn’t that bad, he’s just an asshole sometimes.”

Sam faltered a little, “Don’t beat yourself up over it, I just want you guys to be safe,” Sam said with a small smile. Bucky must’ve cared for this guy a lot and here he was about to try and put an end to his only other friendship.

“Yeah, I guess the closet wasn’t the best place for him to be.”

“The what now?”

Before either of them could say anything, a small head popped up from under the covers. Sam’s mouth hung open as an entire cat slinked out from hiding. It jumped down and walked up to a still stunned Sam before rubbing its face all over his leg.

“It’s a cat,” Sam said. His knees buckled causing him to drop to the floor, “It’s just a cat.”

“What did you think it was?” Bucky asked. Sam didn’t answer.

* * *

“Bastard really likes you,” Bucky said a bit ruefully. He was glad that Sam didn’t hate cats, ecstatic even. He no longer had to hide his furry friend in the closet and take him outside so he could do his business in the bushes. 

But there was one problem. 

“Isn’t bastard kinda a weird name? He’s adorable,” Sam cooed as he scratched the animals behind the ear. Bastard was curled up in his lap as they watched TV, nice and comfortable. Ever since Sam met the cat they’d been inseparable. As soon as Sam got home until he left for work the next day the Bastard spent every moment at his side. 

If he wasn’t getting pet by Sam, he was sleeping on him, or meowing at him, or watching him play games on his phone or read a book. Bastard even got to do the one thing he wasn’t allowed to, eat bits from dinner. 

After weeks on getting threatened with the spatula if he so much as eyed an ingredient for dinner, the furry asshole hopped on the counter, waltzed right up to Sam, meowed, and then was rewarded chicken. 

“I think it fits his personality great,” Bucky muttered as he watched the cat rolled over onto its back and expose its belly to Sam. The veteran gave the cat another goofy smile that looked a lot like the one he would give Bucky. Not that the smile belonged to him or anything. It wasn’t “the special smile only for Bucky”. He was just used to being on the receiving end of it most of the time. Like when he did something Sam found funny and Sam would smile  _ that _ smile and he’d feel warm inside and the cat probably didn’t even know the significance of that smile and thought it was just an ordinary smile and… anyway, Sam smiled at the cat. 

“You’re just jealous,” Sam said as he put the cat down on the cushion and stood up.

“I’m not jealous of the cat!” Bucky said defensively. Sam turned to look at him, his lips drawn in a small pout and his eyebrows creased. That is the moment Bucky realised he made a mistake. As the looked at each other in silence, the cat let out a sound that sounded a little too close to a laugh. 

After another moment, Sam said, “Didn’t know you wanted belly rubs too.” Bucky should’ve been somewhat offended, but Sam was giving him  _ that _ smile so he turned away from him instead. 

                                                                                                           XX 

It wasn’t often Bucky slept through the night. Whether it be nightmares, headaches, or just not being tired anymore, his body wasn’t used to a full eight hours. Looking at the time, it was only six in the morning so instead of laying in bed and thinking about the past for another hour, he got up. Sam would appreciate him making breakfast for him before he went to work.

Walking down the stairs, he heard shuffling in the kitchen. Sam didn’t wake up until seven but maybe couldn’t sleep either. With a small smile, Bucky made sure to make his steps quieter as he crept down the stairs. The first time he scared Sam was an accident but every other time he did because he liked to A; see Sam in compromising situations and B; see Sam scream when he was caught in those situations. 

Getting to the corner, Bucky turned into the kitchen to see the fridge blocking Sam’s body. Sam would close the door to see him standing there like some ghost in those horror movies that they watched. It would be perfect. Bucky’s smirk grew as the rummaging stopped and Sam had found what he was looking for. It was time.

“Who the hell are you?” Bucky got into a defensive position as instead of Sam closing the door it was some tall stranger.

“I can explain.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long waits between updates! Thank you for reading, leave a kudos or a comment if you wanna!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, leave a kudos or a comment it means a lot


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